She saw her brother Pēterkin
Roll something lärge and round,
Which he beside the rivulet

In playing there had found;

He came to ask what he had found

That was so large, and smooth, and round.

Old Kaspar took it from the boy,

Who stood expectant by ;

And then the old man shook his head,

And heaved a natūral sigh;

"Tis some poor fellow's skull," said hē, "Who fell in the great victory.

"I find them in the gärden,

For there's many here about; And often when I gō to plough,

The ploughshare turns them out: For many thousand men," said hē, "Were slain in that great victory."

"Now tell us what 'twas âll about,"
Young Peterkin, hē crieṣ;
And little Wilhelmine looks up,
With wonder-waiting eyeṣ;

"Now tell us all about the wâr,

And what they killed each other for."

"It was the English," Kaspar cried, "Who put the French to rout;

But what they killed each other for
I could not well make out:
But everybody said,” qüoth hē,
"That 'twas a famous victory.

My father lived at Blenheim then,
Yon little stream härd by;

They burnt his cottage to the ground,
And he was forced to fly:

Sō with his wife and child he fled.
Nor had he where to lay his head.

"With fire and sword the country round Was wasted fär and wide,

And many a tender mother then,

And new-born baby died:

But things like that, you know must bē At every famous victory.

They say it was a shocking sight

After the field was won,

For many a thousand bodies there

Lay rotting in the sun;

But things like that, ÿoû know, must bē

After a famous victory.

"Great praise the Duke of Märlboro' won, And our good prince Eugène."

Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!

Said little Wilhelmine,

Nay, nay, my little gîrl," qüoth hē,

"It was a famous victory.

And everybody praised the Duke

Who this great fight did win."— "But what good came of it at last?" Qüoth little Pēterkin.

39.-A PSALM OF LIFE.

1. Tell me not, in mournfül numbers, life iş but an empty dream; for the soul is dead that slumbers, and things are not what they seem. 2. Life is real! life is earnest and the grave is not the goal; dust thou ärt, to dust returnest, was not spoken of the soul. 3. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, is our destined end or way; but to act, that each to-morrow find us farther than to-day. 4. Art is long, and time is fleeting, and our hearts, though stout and brave,... still, like muffled drums, are beating, funeral märcheș to the grave. 5. In the world's broad field of battle, in the bivouac of life,...be not like dumb, driven cattle, bē a hērō in the strife. 6. Trust no future, howe'er pleaṣant; let the dead past bury its dead; act, act in the living present; heart within, and God o'erhead. 7. Lives of great men âll remind us we can make our lives sublime,...and depärting leave behind us footprints on the sands of time. 8. Footprints, that perhaps another, sailing o'er life's solemn main,...a forlorn and shipwrecked brother, seeing, shall take

H

heärt again. 9. Let us, then, be up and doing, with ■ heart for any fate; still achieving, still pursuing, learn to labor and to wait.

40.-UP THE AIRY MOUNTAIN.

1. Up the airy mountain, down the rushy glen, wē dāren't gō a hunting for fear of little men; wee fōlk, good folk, trooping all together; green jacket, red cap, and white owl's feather. 2. Down along the rocky shōre some make their hōme,...ṭhey live on crispy pancakes of yellow tide-foam; some in the reeds of the black mountain-lāke, with frogs for their watch-dogs, âll night awake. 3. High on the hill-top the old king sits; he is now so ōld and grey, he's nigh lost his wits; with a bridge of white mist Columbkill he crosses,...on his stately journeys from Sliēveleague to Rosses; or going up with music on cold stärry nights,...to sup with the queen of the gay Northern Lights. 4. They stole little Bridget for seven years long; when she came down again her friends were all gone; they took her lightly back, between the night and morrow,...they thought that shē was fast asleep, but she was dead with sorrow; they have kept her ever since deep within the lakes,...on a bed of flag-leaves, watching till she wakes. 5. By the craggy hill-side, through the mosses bāre,...they have planted thorn-trees for pleasure here and there. Is any man sō daring to dig one up in spīte,.......hē shall

find the thornies set in his bed at night. 6. Up the airy mountain, down the rushy glen, wē dāren't gō a hunting for fear of little men; wee fōlk, good fōlk, trooping all together; green jacket, red cap, and white owl's feather.

41. THE BIRD.

1. Bîrdie, bîrdie, will yoû pet? Summer is far and far away yet; you'll have silken quilts and a velvet bed, and a pillow of satin for your head. 2. "I'd räther sleep in the ivy wâll; no rain comes through, thōugh I hear it fâll; the sun peeps gay at dawn of day, and I sing, and wing away, away!" 3. O bîrdie, bîrdie, won't yoû pet? we'll buỹ ÿoû a dish of silver fret, a gōlden cup and an ivory seat, and cärpets soft beneath yoûr feet. 4. "Can running wâter be drunk írom gōld? can a silver dish the forest hōld? a rocking twig is the finest chair, and the softest paths lie through the air; goodbye, goodbye to my lady fair!"

42.-THE BROOK

1. I come from haunts of coot and hern, I māke a sudden sally,...and spärkle out among the fern, to bicker down a valley. 2. I chatter över stōny ways, in little shärps and trebles; I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles. 3. With many a